


Three Quick Breaths in Safe Dark Spaces

by eternalbreath



Series: The Meaning of All [1]
Category: Final Fantasy X, Final Fantasy X-2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-31
Updated: 2007-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalbreath/pseuds/eternalbreath





	Three Quick Breaths in Safe Dark Spaces

It took Gippal four months to track Baralai down. The Eternal Calm was anything but, Spira in a tail-spin that didn't look like it was going to hit ground any time soon. It wasn't hard; the Al Bhed were still more decorations than people, and lazy mouths helped Gippal find his way to Bevelle. A little gil went a long way when he dropped Baralai's name. The gil got him news from two acolytes and one warrior monk with little trouble and he found his way to a back alley on the edge of the city, skittish and jumping at anyone who looked at him too long. It was dirty and smelled like fish, and Gippal didn't think it suited Baralai at all. He kicked through old papers on his way to the door, where the wood was flimsy and cracked.

When Gippal knocked, he felt the same nerves he had the first day he had met his teammates, but he and Baralai weren't teammates, anymore. Gippal guessed maybe they were just another pair of lucky survivors.

The door didn't open, and Gippal knocked again. He knew he was in the right place, and the acolyte hadn't seemed to be lying to him—he could usually tell with them. Yevon was gone, but they were still hanging onto the teachings. It wasn't hard to figure them out. He frowned at the door and stepped back, wondering if Baralai was out, or if he just ignored visitors. He was about to walk away when it opened, meeting the wall behind it so hard that the sound rattled down the alley. A frightened rat scurried past Gippal's feet, and he jumped away from it before looking back at the opening.

Baralai didn't say anything. His coat was missing and the crisp white shirt he wore made him look washed out and roughed up. It was clear from his face that he hadn't been sleeping, and Gippal was familiar enough with that from nights in the desert to recognize it now. He was too pale and his hair was too long, falling over the edge of his bandana into his eyes.

Gippal had never been so glad to see someone in his life.

"Hey, 'Lai." He crossed his arms. "Going to invite me in?"

"Gippal?" Baralai's voice was still the same, soft and calm, but hesitant. He looked away, down the alley that Gippal had come through. "How are you here?"

"I walked." Gippal waved a hand. "You're one hard man to track down, you know."

Baralai just kept staring.

It wasn't going like Gippal had planned, the joyous reunion, but nothing in his life was going as planned these days. "I don't gotta stay, if you don't—" He stumbled on the words as Baralai stepped back from the door, leaving an empty space. Gippal didn't have to be asked twice, and slid into it. When the door closed behind him, Gippal didn't know what he was going to say now that he was here. He had been practicing since he had learned Baralai was alive, that he had left the healers and gone off with no word, but now all the words felt stupid, predictable and not enough.

When he turned, he didn't expect to be shoved up against the wall, arms pinned, flaking paint drifting around his head in the air. He didn't expect Baralai's tongue in his mouth, either, or Baralai's hands moving to fist in his hair. It was crazy, it was—

Baralai pulled away long enough to whisper, "I thought you were _dead_."

It clicked then, Baralai's question to him in the alley, and he was a _moron_. Gippal knew Baralai was alive because he had been told, but Baralai didn't speak Al Bhed, couldn't have— "I'm sorry," he said, because there was nothing else.

There were questions Gippal wanted to ask, but Baralai kissed him again, desperate, putting his hands everywhere Gippal had worried they would never go. He grasped at the wall, uncertain, as Baralai fumbled with buckles and shoved his epaulets off. They fell to floor, rattling as they banged against the wall, the suspenders flopping down over his hips. Baralai cupped Gippal's face and pressed their foreheads together.

"You're really here." His thumbs brushed Gippal's cheeks.

Gippal had pictured it in his mind so many times, a little wine, some charm, all the sidelong looks Baralai had been giving him for months would become real looks, and they could stop pretending. It had all gone so wrong, but Baralai was real and in front of him now. He wanted to laugh and make a joke, but he had nothing. "Yeah, I'm really here." Gippal shoved at the belt that Baralai had done a number on, now digging into his stomach, and then put his hands on Baralai's hips.

Baralai laughed. "Still dressing like one of those Luca performers."

"They're called _clowns_, and I what did I say about calling me a clown?" Gippal could only grin. "Anyway, they're creepy. I'm not creepy at all."

Baralai stared at him again. They stood like that for a long moment, tangled together in a mess of discarded clothes, but finally Baralai spoke. "No, you're not." He flushed, but didn't look away, eyes daring Gippal like they had so many late nights months before. That was the Baralai that Gippal remembered, and he looked better for the color in his face. Still too thin, and with shadows Gippal thought he could understand shading his eyes.

"You gonna ravish me against the wall, or invite me in?" Gippal gave Baralai a sly look. "Or both. I'm not picky."

Baralai smiled, but backed away, leaving Gippal free to tug his outer gear off so it didn't drag on the floor. "No, come in. It's more comfortable."

Gippal followed as Baralai went down a short hallway and opened another door. It looked more sturdy, at least, and had a lock, but the small room beyond left something to be desired. Gippal was sure he'd seen prison cells bigger than the room he was looking at. The one window close to the ceiling was striped with bars. It was dim, and the space was dominated by a bed, a small tray table and a chair that had seen better days. Gippal was glad they weren't going to hide anything, because there wasn't much else to look at _but_ the bed, its covers rumpled from sleep.

Gippal hadn't done flustered often—hadn't needed to, because he was _Gippal_—but he sure was making up for lost time. He rubbed his neck and bent to shove his gear under the bed, the only place there was to put it.

"It's cozy, but it works," Baralai said, and let Gippal edge around him so he could close the door.

"I would have gone with cramped, but you're kinda forgiving." Gippal gave up and sat down on the bed. It creaked under him as he scooted back and settled, tugging his boots off so he wouldn't spread dirt all over the sheets. Who knew what kind of crap he had walked through in the alley. "These digs don't seem your style."

Baralai stilled, hand still on the doorknob. "They wouldn't be my first choice, no." He looked down, and Gippal felt like he had stumbled onto something he shouldn't have. Baralai seemed faraway for a moment, hand clenching on metal, before he let go and turned back. Gippal forgot what he was going to say—sorry, what's wrong, _something_—when Baralai pulled at the tie on his pants and let the golden fabric slide through his fingers to the floor.

It was strange how a small thing like really girly waist scarves changed lives, Gippal thought, before Baralai pushed him back and covered him. The bed protested under them, metal on metal the only sound except their breathing.

"I hadn't even plied you with wine yet." Gippal pushed his hands under Baralai's shirt and up his back, smoothing along unfamiliar skin. "You're making this too easy."

"You can take advantage of me later." Baralai said as he pressed their lips together and nudged Gippal's mouth open.

Gippal hadn't come here expecting this, and maybe it would have been smarter to take things slow. But then Baralai pinned him onto his bed, body warm and real and _his_, and Gippal wanted _everything_, all at once. He slid his hands down and tugged at Baralai's pants, and even with the belt gone, they—

Gippal moved his mouth away, but Baralai just shifted and kissed his neck, licked his skin so he could barely think. "'Lai, your pants—"

"Thought you were an engineer." The amusement only made Gippal roll his eyes, and then Baralai sat up on Gippal's thighs to tug his shirt over his head. Gippal felt a heady rush of concern and love all mixed together as he spread his palms over Baralai's chest, over the bones that were too visible. But his skin was warm as Gippal touched him and that was the important part, warm and alive and safe. Weeks and months of rumor and hearsay and here Baralai was, over and on him and nothing in the way but a pair of stubborn pants.

Gippal hadn't ever given much thought to being manhandled, but Baralai did plenty of it. He shoved Gippal's pants down and followed with his own, sneaky inner belt that Gippal swore he would remember for next time. Then Baralai was grinding their hips together, urgent and fast. His mouth was sloppy and wet and kissing Baralai was like coming home. It was like flying on the Fahrenheit with the wind in his hair, the thrill of Baralai's hand stroking them together like the heart-stopping swell of an updraft.

Baralai linked his free hand with Gippal's, and it wasn't like Gippal thought it would be at all as he listened to Baralai say his name, over and over. He squeezed back, calluses against smooth skin, palm to palm. "I missed you," Gippal said, into the salty skin of Baralai's neck, and Baralai murmured something and moved his hand faster. It was good and then it was _great_ and Gippal shook at the end, free arm wrapped around Baralai's neck as they shuddered through together, messy and wet and better than anything he had imagined even during long nights in too-small tents.

Baralai wasn't heavy enough, even relaxed on top of him. Gippal threaded his fingers through the damp hair on the back of Baralai's neck as he drifted and thought about it and ways he could fatten him up, content not to move just yet. Baralai shifted a little and then settled, breath warm on Gippal's neck.

"You still owe me a first date," Baralai said, and Gippal laughed.

They ended up side by side on the bed. Baralai's arms were tight, like he was determined about something. Gippal knew better than to push; Baralai would talk when he was ready. Gippal messed with his hair, loose from his bandana and falling everywhere, glinting in the fading light as the sun dipped low outside.

"I imagined you here." Baralai thumbed the edge of the pants Gippal had more or less tugged back up. His voice was worn, laid out and too raw.

"You'll regret it. I hog covers." Gippal felt Baralai smile against his neck. "But really, _here_? No offense, but if your imagination is this bad—"

"I'm in protective custody."

So there it was, and Gippal had figured something of the sort. "Got it."

"Maester Seymour helped me hide after—well, after. I expected to hear from him, but then..." Baralai's hand tucked into the waist of Gippal's pants, over his hip. "I'm sure you know how that turned out."

"Yevon, run by a bunch of dead guys." Gippal hadn't had trouble believing it—not after the things he had seen. "Crazy stuff."

Baralai's breath ghosted across his skin. "...what about Paine?"

Gippal covered his face with his free arm. "Don't know. Didn't hear anything about her." It hurt in a way he couldn't describe. Gippal could only think of two options, and both of them made him sick. He threaded his leg between Baralai's, settled closer. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you."

Baralai didn't ask about Nooj, and Gippal didn't bring him up. He didn't know when they'd talk about it—and they would have to sooner or later, but Gippal didn't want to do it today. Not like this. They laid in silence for a few minutes as the light faded outside the small window. Gippal thought of the dark—of the sea, deep under the water where no light reached, and of caves no man should ever have to walk through, and how he had forgotten the comfort of it in his fear of what waited in dark spaces for him.

"We won't lose each other again." It wasn't a question, and Gippal knew Baralai's voice when he didn't want an argument.

Gippal nodded. "Thick and thin," he said. In the tiny room, in the dark, for the first time in months, Gippal felt safe.


End file.
